


Of Memories and Love

by OverGamboARainbow



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, GOD IM GAY, Lesbians, Light Angst, i literally don't know how to tag, just some semi sad shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverGamboARainbow/pseuds/OverGamboARainbow
Summary: Ann reflects upon her relationship with Anne while at the Sutherland estate and her promise to one day draw the woman she had so come to love.





	Of Memories and Love

**Author's Note:**

> Oooh okay, here we go. This is my first fanfiction in about six years and it's pretty rubbish and I have no beta, so apologies in advance for any mistakes. This was a short one-shot written as a sort of vent piece based off my own recent experiences and my regret towards them. I absolutely adore both Ann and Anne and truly believe there's loads we can learn from what they did and didn't do. I hope you all enjoy it, at least a bit. If all goes well I will hopefully continuing writing for Gentleman Jack and the Ann(e)'s beautiful story x

Her hand glided restlessly over the crude graphite sketch before her, though her gaze fell far beyond the field outside the window before her, past the rolling hills and somewhere south to where Shibden Hall rest in Halifax. It was the home of the woman who was so fondly remembered in the drawing before her, even though she had undoubtedly travelled many miles away from its familiar rooms by now.

Ann squinted at something beyond the horizon as if she could imagine Anne herself sweeping into Shibden, confident yet irritated as if there had been some hold up from coming back from the Gravesend docks from another spectacular trip that she couldn’t wait to tell her aunt of. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as if it were her reality and not a fantasy she had imagined for herself in the silent isolation of Captain Sutherland and her sister’s great estate.

But her conjured happiness soon faded as she looked back at the drawing before her, constructed of delicate and now painful memories. A promise fulfilled too late, but fulfilled nonetheless, even if the action seemed pointless now. 

_ “Maybe one day you could paint me.”  _ She had so effortlessly teased, likely humouring Ann’s ever persistent hobby in the arts.

_ “I’d love to paint you.” _

They had been a few words, uttered too quickly, too eager to please. But Ann ever beside herself, had not regretted them for a moment despite her usual discomfort at drawing those whom she had come to know, the ever looming fear of insulting them outweighed by the desire to please Miss Lister. A somewhat coy yet simultaneously mischievous smile met her gaze as she traced her fingertips over the sketch tenderly.

She would do anything to feel the warmth of of Anne’s skin in her grasp again. The familiar touch of her thumb against her lips, something she had so fondly come to do after their first reuniting visit. Anne knew her in such a way she didn’t even know or understand herself, that much she could admit despite her pain and fear. She missed the way they had entwined their fingers as they became familiar with one another’s bodies, not just for pleasure, but for the complete intimacy of trust. It was in that moment that Ann realized what pure and utter adoration was, the first time she had found herself longing for companionship. Oh, how she yearned for her if only just for an hour more. It was a chance she had but so foolishly squandered, any chance of happiness many miles away now.

Ann withdrew her hand gently as the memories flooded back, memories she had tried to repress and forget, for her own sake and remaining sanity. Her throat felt dry despite the seemingly never ceasing tears that ran down her cheeks as her hands began trembling slightly. She dropped the pencil into her lap as she looked away from the drawing, desperately trying to blink away the rising tears. It seemed no amount of time could pass in which she wouldn’t think about Anne, whether it was wondering what the woman was up to or conjuring up circumstances in which she would come bursting through the door so Ann could beg forgiveness and hold her for just one more kiss.

With a sharp inhale for air as she forced back a sob. Ann shrugged the shawl around her arms tighter and closed her eyes, imagining the wool that warmed her were Anne’s arms wrapped firmly around her as she reassured her that everything would be alright, just as she had done so many times before. Regret too often swirled in her mind, knowing that she should have listened to her and not allowed herself to fall into a pattern of disbelief and pushing away the woman she loved. She shook her head desperately and fervently as she curled into herself slightly, clenching her fists and shutting out any such emotion that dare shake her now. Murmuring softly to herself Ann’s fingers found themselves wrapped back around her pencil. 

Slowly she opened her eyes again, and raising one hand to tear stained cheeks she wiped them away gently. She found herself momentarily distracted again when she saw the locked drawer beside her, knowing full well that it contained many unfinished letters. Although they were deliberately not addressed to anyone, they were all intended for the same person. It was with regret that their vow to not contact one another during this trying time had her stash the letters away each time she wrote them, feeling she locked away her heart piece by piece with them.

With a new bout of determination Ann pressed the pencil to the paper before her once more with still trembling hands, forcing the letters from her mind. With each passing day she felt as if she forgot more and more about the enigma of a woman she was drawing, the one whose fashion sense and confidence had struck her so strongly the first time she had ever even so much as rested her gaze on her. The admiration for everything else about her would soon follow when she met her, back then only just a blushing flower. She clearly remembered what she looked like, yes, but beyond that she had forgotten the expression on her face as she looked at Ann so tenderly and asked her to take the sacrament. The way she had looked at her just before their first kiss and the gentleness she had offered her when asking for her permission of what was to follow. Whether it was a memory too painful to remember, or just something slipping her mind, she was unsure. But no matter the reason now, the memories seemed to continue to fade away nightmare by nightmare.

With a steady breath Ann raised her pencil again to immortalize her fleeting memories of the woman she had come to love, for it was the only thing left that she could do when she had most certainly lost her.


End file.
